


Day 28: Bohemian!Verse "Petrichor"

by catsandcrayola



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade AU Challenge [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Artist Dean, Barista Castiel, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Butt Plugs, Dean picks up the phone while masturbating, Dildos, Dirty Thoughts, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Masturbation, POV Dean Winchester, Panicking Dean, Phone Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Roommates, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stargazing, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vibrators, Voice Kink, but yes also, flatmates, is dominant though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandcrayola/pseuds/catsandcrayola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a struggling artist, with an enormous crush on Castiel, a barista at the local coffee shop. When Castiel by chance moves in with him, Dean tries to put a lid on his feelings - but fails spectacularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 28: Bohemian!Verse "Petrichor"

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two of my [Bohemian!Verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/151778). Although you _could_ read this as a stand-alone, I highly recommend you go back and read [part one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2299280) if you haven't already. Everything will make a lot more sense to you. (Also it has plenty of smut.)
> 
> Thanks to Beth for always providing helpful input on my work.

\---  
  
  
Dean woke up to the sun shining into the empty flat, and for a moment he laid on his bed, idly, nuzzling his pillow like a cat would. It was at least ten, which meant Castiel had already left for his shift at the café. Dean was naked, warm, and completely at ease. He rolled over on his stomach, thrusting lazily into the mattress, relieving some of the tension that had built overnight.  
  
 _Wait a second._  
  
Suddenly the memories of last night came back to him, like water, breaking through the haze of sleep, washing over him in waves: Dean wanking off to Cas’ pornographic mewls, Cas calling him out on it by saying “goodnight, Dean” right as Dean thought he’d gotten away with it, and Dean laying awake for what felt like hours afterwards, trying to calm himself down enough to fall sleep.  
  
“Fucking son of a bitch,” he groused.  
  
Cas had obviously noticed that Dean was still awake, but was that before or after he started pleasuring himself? And had he been aware that Dean had enjoyed it, in fact so much that he’d gotten off on it?  
  
Dean rolled his hips, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips.  
  
He wondered if Cas had gotten off on it, too, and if Cas maybe had done it on purpose: writhing wantonly on the bed, groaning loudly enough for Dean to hear him. Maybe he _wanted_ Dean to hear him, maybe he wanted Dean to come over to his bed, and have Dean sink himself down onto Cas’ big, hard, throbbing cock, maybe Cas wanted to _fuck him_.  
   
Dean stuck two fingers into his own mouth, twirling his tongue around them, slicking them up. Holding on to the image of Cas naked and brazenly moaning for him on the bed, Dean led his hand back, guided his fingers between the cheeks of his ass, and pushed them greedily into himself; Cas’ name a whisper on his lips.  
  
He imagined it was Cas’ fingers in him. Dean had more than once let his eyes wander deliberately to Cas’ hands, and he knew Cas had long, slender fingers, which without doubt would find his prostate easil-…  
  
“Uuuhhn.”  
  
 _Oh yeah, right there, Cas…_

  
As Dean rolled his hips, over and over again, he let his free hand grasp at the sheets while fucking himself relentlessly with the other. _Oh God_.  
  
Dean moaned again, loudly and unabashed, knowing he was alone.  
  
He let his fingers slip out of himself, instead opening the nightstand drawer, rummaging through it to find a curved vibrator and a bottle of lube. Twenty seconds later, he pushed the toy into himself, turned it on, and groaned huskily at the feel of it inside him.  
  
 _Fuck, Cas, your dick feels so damn good inside me.  
  
_ As he pumped the toy in and out of his ass, he moaned and whimpered Cas’ name continuously, like a mantra, hoping that if he said Cas’ name enough many times maybe he would magically manifest behind Dean.  
  
Maybe Cas longed for him, just like Dean did for Cas.  
  
Dean panted heavily, being almost dizzy with _want_. His ass was in the air now, one hand on the vibrator, one on his dick. _Fuck_ , he was so close. The vibrations on his prostate made him whimper, but couldn’t quite bring him over the edge.  
  
He groaned in frustration, sat back on his heels and spread his legs a little, the toy now held in place by the mattress, leaving both of Dean’s hands free to stroke his cock and play with his nipples.  
  
 _Come on, come on_ , Dean thought impatiently, pinching his left nipple and moaning at the sensation.  
  
Dean thought of last night, how deliciously dirty Cas had sounded then. Maybe he had wanted to scream Dean’s name, maybe…  
  
The phone rang.  
  
“Ah-are you fuckkk-ihng kidding me!”  
  
Dean took a quick look at the screen, and his heart started _racing_. It was _Cas_. Dean felt a blush spread on his cheeks, and before he could stop himself, his hand was off his nipple and on the phone, answering the call.  
  
Holding the phone proved to be difficult, because of the lube still on his hand, so Dean put it on speaker and threw the phone on the bed.  
  
“Hhey, Cas, you’re on speaker.”  
  
A slight pause at the other end.  
  
“Are you with someone?”  
  
“No! No, I just… My hands are… I’m… occupied.”  
  
Dean mentally cringed as the words fell out of his mouth. _Way to be fucking subtle, Dean._ At least the vibrator was one of the more silent ones.  
  
“Oh… Of course, you’re painting. My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  
  
“Nah, that’s completely, _completely_ fine.”  
  
Dean licked his lips and continued stroking his cock loosely, getting more than a little turned on by the fact that Cas could hear him if he slipped up and moaned.  
  
“I was in a hurry this morning, and the sun was up so I didn’t bring my trench coat.”  
  
Dean nodded to himself, biting his lip, as he twisted his palm over the head of his cock, rocking back on the toy buried in him.  
  
He let out a sigh of pleasure.  
  
“Well, it’s about to start pouring down. They say it’ll keep on until dusk.”  
  
“Uhuh.”  
  
Dean rolled his hips feverishly, his breath short and shallow. There was a short pause on the other end. Could Cas hear him? To be honest, Dean hardly even cared at this point, he mostly wanted to scream Cas’ name, beg Cas to get home and fuck him hard and fast, with his hands fisted in Dean’s hair.  
  
“I was wondering if you had the time to stop by the café, and bring my coat. I’ll buy you lunch for your trouble.”  
  
Dean jacked himself rapidly; resulting in low, slapping sounds, which he hoped to God was inaudible to Cas. He was right on edge now, the exhilaration of hearing Cas’ voice while having a vibrating dildo up his ass was unbelievable, especially after last night. If Cas had been home, maybe he would join Dean. Maybe he’d get down on his knees and suck Dean off, while Dean fucked himself on a fake dick. Dean tipped his head back, gasping faintly.  
  
 _You can’t come with him on the line, Dean, you can’t, no no no, breathe, you can’t, I fuck, oh oh ahhh,_ Dean rambled in his head. _That would be so wrong. Oh fuckkkk me, Cas._  
  
“I gotta’ go, Cas. I… spilled some paint.”  
  
Dean felt his orgasm start to rise up inside him, familiar tingles spreading throughout his body.  
  
Dean meant to hang up the phone, he really did, but the phone was all the way over _there_ , on the mattress, and reaching out for it meant Dean had to either remove his hand from the nipple he was rolling between his fingers, or from his throbbing cock; now weeping, precome running slickly down the shaft.  
  
He’d said bye, Cas would hang up any second now anyway. _Right?_  
  
“Sure, just… bring the fucking trench coat, and _come_.”  
  
As Cas hung up, Dean slammed himself down on the dildo, burying it to the hilt, the vibrations reaching deep, deep inside him, filling him up and feeling so fucking fantastic against his prostate. His head lightened, white noise flooding through him, as his balls tightened and his breath hitched.  
  
Dean came hard; a wave of pleasure rolling over him again and again, his jaw clenched together as he pumped his cock frantically and replayed Cas’ voice over and over again in his head: “ _come_ ”.  
  
After Dean had spilled his cum all over the sheets and his hand, and moaned Cas’ name incoherently while doing it, he collapsed forward on his knees and elbows, trembling from the effort, and twitching as the vibrator continued to pulse inside him.  
  
Dean reached back to turn it off, and almost lost his balance. As he slid the toy out of himself, another spurt of come burst from his still hard cock.  
  
He flopped over on his back, trying to avoid the mess he’d made on the bed. Dean stared up into the ceiling, trying to enjoy the giddiness, but it did not stave off his panic for long.  
  
 _I’m the worst flatmate to ever flatmate. I’m being a fucking pervert. This has got to stop._  
  
He got up with a sigh and pulled on some jeans and a sweater, contemplating what his next course of action should be to forget this thing with Cas even happened in the first place, and, _especially_ , in the second place.  
  
 _I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. What am I going to do?_  
  
Had Castiel’s voice sounded a bit more hoarse than normal? _Come..._ As Dean balled up Cas’ trench coat, he wondered whether or not Cas’ wording had been deliberate.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Naturally, it had started raining the second Dean stepped out of the building. It rained all the way to the café, the downpour growing heavier and heavier by the minute. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if they’d get a flash flood warning by the next couple of hours.  
  
He shook of his umbrella as he stepped into the café, carefully not to splash it all over the floor – Dean knew that meant Cas would have to clean it up later.  
  
There was a line in front of the counter, and Cas was too busy attending the customers to notice, or at least acknowledge, Dean’s arrival. He sat his bag down by a table in the corner, not too far away from the counter. Dean wanted to be within view, just slightly out of the way.  
  
He helped himself to a cup of coffee – the coffeepot standing on the counter like it did during busy lunch hours. Dean found himself to be in a chirpy, cheerful mood, despite the gloomy weather. He didn’t mind the rain at all, in fact he was kind of grateful for it. Dean had spent enough time at the café that he knew it was always slower than usual on rainy days. People didn’t make spontaneous stops when it was pouring like this; they rushed to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible.  
  
Dean wanted to do some sketches or maybe jot down some thoughts for a song he’d been working on. He nestled in, pulling out his notebooks and pencils, scattering it over the available surfaces. Cas always rolled his eyes at Dean’s clutter, but Dean maintained that great minds needed a systematic mess to their workplace, as he proudly quoted Einstein. (“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”) Cas always laughed then, shaking his head as a triumphant grin spread across Dean’s face.  
  
The café drained of customers slowly, until Dean was the only one left. Strictly speaking he was not a paying customer, nor had he been one for the majority of this past year, but Dean did care for the place. It was familiar, kind of like a second home; the people working here were like a second family.  
  
Dean stopped drumming his pencil on the notebook, and stared at Castiel over his cup of coffee. Cas was leaning on the counter, taking advantage of the lack of people, tapping away on his smart phone. He was probably on Twitter complaining about the weather or something. How Cas could be so savvy when it came to social media was beyond Dean – especially since Cas couldn’t even download an app without having to ask Dean for help.  
  
Cas squinted at the screen. _How frickin’ adorable_. He was sporting a serious case of bed hair, and he wore his glasses today. Dean loved the glasses. They were thick-rimmed, with a dark tortoise shell colour, and they gave Cas a certain poise, an authority, like he was a teacher of some sort, maybe even a professor. Dean _really_ loved the glasses. He chewed on his lip as he tried to ignore his teacher/student role-play fantasies. It was difficult to _not_ think about sex though, when Cas looked this dishevelled. He looked like he’d just had a quickie in the supply room. Again Dean’s thoughts flew to last night, and he almost popped a boner in the middle of the café.  
  
Was Cas aware that Dean had found it “ _very_ agreeable”?  
  
Dean emptied his cup in two large gulps, and got up to refill it. He fished up the trench coat from his bag, and moved resolutely towards the desk.  
  
He slung the coat on the counter, and grinned jovially.  
  
“I brought your _fucking trench coat_.”  
  
For a brief second Cas looked utterly confused, but then his frown broke into a beaming smile, as he collected the trench coat and placed it on a coat-stand by the back door.  
  
“Oh yeah, thank you, Dean. I apologise for cursing, I was a bit frustrated at the time.”  
  
 _You and me both, baby_ , Dean thought.  
  
Dean waited a couple of seconds for Cas to say something, anything, about what had happened between them. Dean preferred thinking about the incident like that; it had happened between them. It almost sounded like it hadn’t been a coincidence, like maybe it had been a step in the right direction. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of it.  
  
Cas _didn’t_ say anything, though; he went straight back to looking at his phone.  
  
 _Is he ignoring me? The little shit._  
  
Either Cas was ignoring Dean because he didn’t want to talk about last night, or – and this was less likely – Cas was ignoring him because he had simply forgot. Dean was surprised to find himself hoping for the latter.  
  
Dean tried his best to act natural, normal, like he would on any other given day, but he had a hard time pretending; he felt awkward no matter how he stood or how he positioned his arms, and his smile felt stiff and uncomfortable. Maybe Cas was right to just forget everything about what had happened.  
  
 _If Cas can forget, then I can, too,_ Dean thought. _  
  
_He leaned casually on the counter, careful to try do so in a manner that wouldn’t suggest that he’d groaned Cas’ name into a mattress just hours before. He contemplated nudging Cas’ shoulder to gain his attention, but decided against it, in fear of Cas reading something into it.  
  
As Dean thought of how to best start a conversation, he let his gaze fall to Cas’ lips. They were pink and slightly chapped, but despite it they seemed soft. For the millionth time Dean imagined how they would feel against his own.  
  
It took a while before Dean noticed that he was staring, but even then he couldn’t really bring himself to stop. Staring was kind of their thing anyway.  
  
“If you want a refill, there’s black coffee in the pot,” Cas said calmly, his voice gruff and hoarse, a sassy undertone to his remark.  
  
“Well if you’re not employee of the month,” Dean said playfully, feeling himself loose up at the sound of Cas’ voice. The normalcy to it felt like a buoy to his uneasiness.  
  
Cas smirked to himself, but didn’t look up.  
  
“I actually, ah, wanted to try something new.” Dean paused, and waited for a response.  
  
Nothing. He knew Cas was listening, though, since he had stopped tapping on his mobile.  
  
“That thing you always drink,” Dean offered, trying to catch Cas’ interest.  
  
Still nothing. Dean tried to narrow it down even more.  
  
“That spicy-smelling thing.”  
  
At that, Cas frowned. For a second he looked puzzled, as he tried to make sense of Dean’s order. Then realisation hit, and Cas looked over at him in disbelief.  
  
“Chai latté?”  
  
“Yes,” Dean affirmed, “chai latté.”  
  
“ _You_ want a _chai latté_ ,” Cas said incredulously, as he straightened up and put his phone away.  
  
“ _Yes_ , I want a chai latté, Cas. I like trying new things.”  
  
Cas leaned over and picked up Dean’ mug, while shooting him a sceptical, piercing look. It made Dean feel exposed. He was lying through his teeth: he _hated_ trying new things, and Cas knew it.  
  
“Alright,” Cas shrugged, an amused smile on his face. He went over to the steamer and started it up. While the milk was steaming he poured some hot water in Dean’s cup and put a tea bag in it.  
  
“It’s better if you make it from scratch,” he said, while the tea simmered, “we don’t do that here at the café, but I’ll do it for you at home sometime.”  
  
Cas shook some cinnamon on top of the foamy milk, placed the mug in front of Dean, and stared at him expectantly.  
  
As Dean took the first sip, he kept eye contact with Cas, who really seemed to be completely unaffected by last night’sincident. Dean did not get it at all: himself, well, he was _freaking out_ ; his mind going haywire, full of what ifs and maybes and Cas’ moans – _God, those moans were flat out pornographic_ – but looking at Cas, it was as though nothing had happened at all.  
  
Cas was just _stood there_ , hands casually placed on his hips, like he hadn’t _singlehandedly_ turned Dean’s whole existence upside-down. How could he go about his day like nothing was changed? How could he stand in front of Dean and be as calm as a Hindu cow, when he beat one off last night well-fucking-aware that Dean was able to hear him?  
  
Now Dean was certain that Cas had forgot, there was no way he was this good at acting.  
  
Dean was not so sure how he felt about Cas forgetting anymore. He frowned.  
  
“Not as good as you thought?”  
  
Cas’ words pulled Dean out of his thoughts. Dean looked down into the mug, studying the contents. He didn’t necessarily _hate_ the chai latté, it was sweet and spicy all at the same time, and Dean was usually all about combining opposing flavours, but it was far from the best thing he’d tasted. To be honest, he preferred his black coffee.  
  
“Can’t say I’m a fan. Sorry.”  
  
Cas shrugged.  
  
“Oh well, at least try my recipe before you kick it for good.”  
  
Dean nodded absently, thinking about how Cas, if he did in fact remember, did a real good job not letting on. You don’t just forget about mutual masturbation sessions with your flatmates. Dean was in utter disbelief as to how Cas could be so nonchalant about it, and for a fleeting moment he theorised that Cas maybe did that with other people all the time; maybe it was his kind of thing to just casually rub one out in front of his friends. Maybe it was the sort of things they did for fun in rural areas. Dean wouldn’t know, he had only ever been in the countryside once or maybe twice in his life, back when he was a kid. He had no idea what “eccentric” customs they had in farm societies.  
  
By the time Dean finished his chai latté he was still bewildered.

  
  
\---  
  
  
Dean was on his back, laying on the still wet soil. It was late, definitely past midnight, and all the stars were out. The rain had stopped hours ago, but it had been too much for the ground to absorb, and already the excess water had soaked through Dean’s three layers of clothing. He could feel it cold against his back, but he didn’t care. He turned his head to the right, and there laid Castiel, his shoulder almost touching Dean’s. Cas was looking up at the sky, and Dean could make out the contours of a soft smile on his lips. Dean bit his lip and followed Cas’ gaze, looking up at the thousands of stars shining brightly back at him, no, back at _them_.  
  
They had stayed at the café until closing. Cas had taken on a double shift, and Dean had made all sorts of excuses for not going home to work on his art. After Dean had stopped over-thinking everything, and gotten over his initial consternation, the conversation between them had run smoothly, like it usually did. After Cas had locked up the place, when they had been on their way home, Cas had, on a whim, suggested that they should go stargazing. Dean had been easy to convince: the excitement was written all over Cas’ face, and he just didn’t know how to say no to those puppy eyes.  
  
Dean tried to spot constellations. He only knew four: The Big Dipper, The Little Dipper, Orion’s Belt, and the Northern Star. After he’d found them all, he started to make up his own.  
  
“This is just incredible,” Cas whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “I never knew you could see the stars like this in the city.”  
  
Dean smiled. Cas was so close to him that he could feel his body heat. It kept Dean warm, despite the cold ground underneath him. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. Dean loved the smell that followed a good downpour. Clean, fresh: like a new beginning. Cas was right; this _was_ incredible.  
  
“You just need to know where to go,” Dean whispered back. He had no idea why they were whispering, since they probably were the only people in the park at this hour, but Dean kinda liked how it created an intimacy between them, almost like they were sharing secrets.  
  
“You see those five stars over there, kinda forming a zigzag pattern?”  
  
Cas pointed to somewhere above them.  
  
“Mm, yeah, I think so?”  
  
“That’s Cassiopeia. It’s shortened to Cas, just like my name.”  
  
“Really? Cool. Any chance there’s a Deaniopeia up there somewhere?”  
  
Cas burst out laughing, and Dean grinned. He loved making Cas laugh.  
  
“Shh,” Cas hushed him, as he tried to stifle his laughter, “we have to be quiet.”  
  
“We’re in a park in the middle of the night.”  
  
“I know, isn’t it brilliant?”  
  
One of them must have shuffled closer at some point, because now Cas’ shoulder was touching Dean’s. His heart fluttered contently.  
  
“No one can hear us.”  
  
“Don’t be so sure, Dean. You never know who might be listening.”  
  
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Cas send him a knowing look. Was he hinting to…? No, he couldn’t be. Dean pretended he didn’t notice and tried to laugh instead – it came out sounding just as nervous as he felt.  
  
“Ahaha, no, I guess not.”  
  
 _Smooth._  
  
Cas wet his lips, and let his eyes fall to Dean’s mouth.  
  
“I knew you were awake last night, Dean.”  
  
 _Oh God, nonono, I do not want this conversation. Fuck me, fuck me, I’m so fucked, nono._  
  
Dean clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Cassiopeia, counting and recounting the five stars.  
  
“I knew you were awake when I started touching myself. I heard you were wanking off, and I just… it turned me on, hearing you. I wanted you to hear _me_ make those sounds, Dean. Just thinking about it, I was hard within seconds… and then… I tried moaning a bit, and the _rush_ I got from it!” Cas let out a huff of air, enthralled. “It made my blood just… _boil_. I was _so_ into it. Turns out I’m a bit of an exhibitionist.”  
  
Cas grinned widely at Dean, but his grin faltered as he studied Dean’s face.  
  
Dean still hadn’t said anything: his mouth had gone completely dry, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could remember enough words to form a coherent sentence. He just kept on staring up at the sky, counting the stars, while his heart raced in his chest. His fingers fumbled over the wet grass beneath them, pulling nervously at the straws they could reach.  
  
Dean had no idea what was going on. This was partly what he had hoped for; Cas had done it on purpose, and because of that he should be overjoyed, but at the same time this was also the furthest from what Dean wanted. It had not been a sign of any hidden feelings towards Dean, far from it. Cas wasn’t attracted to him at all – he was just exhibitionistic. He just wanted an audience.  
  
 _It could have been anyone in that room,_ Dean thought bitterly, _and he would still have done it._  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean, I’ve made you uncomfortable.”  
  
Cas voice was low and husky, and almost… mournful.  
  
Dean knew that this was the time for him to admit to Cas how incredibly turned on Cas’ whimpers had made him, to come clean about how Dean had enthusiastically indulged in the memory of Cas’ muffled groans during his solo session this morning. This was exactly the right moment for Dean to just throw in the towel and confess his feelings for Castiel. Dean should tell Cas everything, _right now_.  
  
But he didn’t. He swallowed heavily.  
  
“You’re my best friend, Dean. I shouldn’t have jeopardised our friendship by doing that. I’m so sorry,” Cas paused.  
  
“I understand if you-“  
  
“I enjoyed it,” Dean croaked out.  
  
“Wait, what?”  
  
“I enjoyed it,” Dean repeated, his voice now clear and steady. He could feel his face turning beet red, but thankfully the dark would cover most of it up for him.  
  
Suddenly Cas’ face broke into a grin again, and it almost looked liked Cas was going to kiss him.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay what?” Dean asked, the embarrassment still tingeing his cheeks.  
  
“Would you like to do it again?”  
  
 _Dude, yes!_  
  
“What, like _now_?”  
  
“Not necessarily _now_. Whenever. Which includes now if you wanted to, I guess. But it’s starting to get a bit cold isn’t it? That could prove to be a hindrance.”  
  
 _Wait. Slow down. Rewind. What?_  
  
“Woah, Cas. Hold up a sec. Exactly what is it that you’re suggesting, here?”  
  
“I don’t know what I’m suggesting.”  
  
“It sounds a lot to me like you’re suggesting we should… you know, have a _thing_.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be like _that_ , Dean. Like, you know how you like to walk around naked in the flat all the time?”  
  
 _It’s not_ all _the time_ , Dean thought defensively, before Cas continued.  
  
“I don’t mind that. I like your brazenness. This will just be us two getting rid of our modesty regarding masturbation.”  
  
 _Masturbation! Oh my God._  
  
Dean was torn. An unlimited supply of Cas’ hot mewls? _Bring it!_ He was offered a free pass to openly listen to, or hell, maybe even _watch_ , Cas splayed out on the bed, fucking into his own fist and lifting his hips up in frustration, taking himself apart with his hands, or maybe Cas had toys too… Dean let out a shaky breath. The thought alone made his cock twitch and strain against his jeans.  
  
On the other hand, agreeing to this _friends-with-limited-benefits_ arrangement would also make life harder for Dean in the _non_ -sexy way. Of course there was no downside to this for Castiel, because Cas, unlike Dean, did not harbour a Texas-sized crush on the other participant. Dean was emotionally compromised; the best thing to do would be to refrain from the arrangement. It could be _really_ difficult to shake his feelings for Cas if Dean started to associate him with sexual gratification.  
  
“Fuck, Cas, baby, I don’t know…”  
  
“Look, I’m not asking you to jerk me off,” Cas incited, “let’s just try it out for a while. If it doesn’t work out, we can pretend it never even happened.”  
  
 _You have no idea how much I want this, do you?  
_  
Dean groaned. He was so conflicted. He knew he probably shouldn’t say yes, but by fucking God, he wanted to!  
  
Dean had wanted to pounce on Cas and have his way with him the very second he had seen him, and even now – years later – that want had not subsided. Not one bit. To lie shoulder to shoulder with the man of his dreams, and hear him ask Dean if he wanted to partake in his masturbation routines, it felt unreal.  
  
 _Maybe I’m dreaming?_ Dean dismissed the thought at once. If this had really been a dream, Cas would’ve had his hands down Dean’s pants right now, so Dean could probably rule that out.  
  
He briefly wondered whether or not it would be immoral of him to say yes, precisely _because_ of his feelings for Cas – the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of Cas’ newly discovered kink.  
  
Dean had almost decided on turning Cas down, but then he noticed the way Cas was looking at him.  
  
 _Aaghh, Cas, I’m trying to do the right thing here, stop with the angel face._  
  
Cas had a playful glint in his eyes. He nudged Dean’s hand with his own, gently stroking his thumb along the inside of Dean’s palm.  
  
“Come on,” he coaxed, tilting his head as much as he could lying down.  
  
Dean felt his resolution crumble.  
  
 _Fuck,_ this was such a fucking bad idea. He would certainly regret it.  
  
He let out a sigh of defeat.  
  
“Okay.”  



End file.
